I had planned to write a final Ironman Cozumel report on the debacle called Tri Sport Express. Even had a post written and everything. But I’m not going to rehash everything here.

The short story is that they were (very) late in delivering the bikes to Cozumel, messing up everyone’s plans and races and almost not allowing us to start. Add nonexistent communication, a perception of being less than truthful about logistics and experience and damaged equipment, and there are a lot of angry people out there.

But it’s also provided a lot of internal drama as well. Not sure why, but at this point it’s jumped the shark as far as I’m concerned.

My motivation in writing anything at all was to ensure others never had this experience happen to them. But there’s enough written at Slowtwitch that hopefully people will be better informed on TSE, or any companies run by the same people.

And hopefully people will get compensated for the physical damage that was done.

A lot’s been written about the Washington, DC stop on the Ghirardelli Hot Chocolate 5k/15k races recently at National Harbor. The stories all take the position that the race was an unmitigated disaster; you can see examples here, here and here. If you were there, you know that description is generous.

But I started to wonder…what lessons does the race hold for promoters? Viewing this from my combined experience in being an athlete and a lawyer, what can we learn from this series of problems that led to a seriously unhappy group of customers? I don’t do this for a living, but here are just a few preliminary thoughts:

The first thing that struck me was the reference to fixed costs in putting on a race of this nature and the fact that the promoter, RAM Racing of Chicago, seems concerned about their liability. They should be. I’m hoping that each of their separate races are organized out of a separate legal entity. Many will see this as an unnecessary additional step, but when everything goes wrong you want to make sure your liability is limited as much as possible to that specific race. This is the example that proves why.

I was watching the race, not running in it. My wife—who doesn’t even like chocolate—was running this after supporting me at Ironman Cozumel the week before, and our neighbor was running with her. The husbands were cheering, and I turned to him when the 5k runners went by and said, ‘this is why they place a cap on the number of athletes.’ Every promoter thinks that tripling their wildest dreams would be great for their race, but especially the first time you run an event in a new venue you should simply cap it at a reasonable number. Overreaching leads to bad results, and even successfully managed events like Ironman races get grumbling at the number of competitors. This builds buzz as well.

Third, you need to make sure that the venue is appropriate for the event. Part of this is the location, but an even greater amount is the working relationships with local authorities and partners. There are always two sides to any relationship, but if you don’t have complete confidence that your partners are willing to work with you to make things successful then you shouldn’t put on the event in the first place. I can’t tell you how many of my clients have heard this advice, decided to do the deal anyway because ‘there’s no one else’, and then the deal ends up as a disaster for everyone involved. Usually ‘there’s no one else’ means ‘it seemed like the best deal at the time.’ Your partners hold your reputation in their hands. Treat them better than your bankers.

Most of these problems could have been avoided. (But, RAM racing has a history of disappointing on these very issues, in multiple cities.) Maybe the problem was hubris, maybe it was random…I don’t really know. But I think many problems can be avoided by having someone on staff to poke holes in the planning. I’m biased, but I prefer a lawyer for this role because we’re trained to raise questions about poor outcomes and have the confidence and position to raise them to leadership’s attention. Many people view this as a negative force when having a ‘red team’ is just part of an effective planning process. Look, you can hire me (legal) or my wife (pr and marketing). Actually, we have great jobs already, but you know what I mean. You should hire both roles to be part of your team. But what most people do is skimp on the former and outsource the latter. What happens then is you hire several (very expensive) lawyers and a vast team of PR and marketing folks to try and keep the 20,000 former customers and their pitchforks from your castle, instead of building the right relationships from the start. Have someone on your team as the designated contrarian, at the very least.

Finally, I haven’t reviewed the participant release that RAM prepared for this, but I think every race promoter should sit down with their lawyer and review theirs in light of what happened. Same with their contingency plans, and their agreements with municipal and location partners. At the Association of Corporate Counsel meeting in Denver a month ago they had a panel discussion on race promotion legal issues, and hopefully your lawyer was there and up to speed on the latest issues. You know what they say, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure!

I’ve gotten away without writing a race report thus far in my triathlon career, but it seems fitting that I should do my first one in conjunction with my first attempt at the Ironman distance (2.4 mile open-water ocean swim, 112 (really, 113) miles on the bike without drafting, followed by a full running marathon of 26.2 miles). But that means this will be a little long, so apologies in advance.

For those of you who don’t know my story, let me give a brief explanation about my journey. When I was younger, bike racing was my thing. And I was pretty good, but thought that college and law school was a better career choice at the time. I focused on my career, gained weight and eventually was over 240 pounds. After working for five years to develop a lifelong dream of pursuing elected office, I walked away. At the time, my wife was studying for her MBA and once I had nothing to focus on; I was apparently a little distracting. So, after three days, I was told to choose a new goal to keep me occupied.

I decided to tackle a triathlon. Just one problem: I couldn’t really swim. If I was on a boat that capsized, I would make it to shore (probably), and I had passed the lifesaving merit badge in boy scouts, but I couldn’t really get anywhere fast and I wasn’t comfortable around water. How bad was it? I hired a swim coach, and our first meeting was probably the most humiliating point of my journey. My male ego took a bruising when *she* was faster than me. Even though I was doing freestyle, and she was doing sidestroke and yelling at me while swimming. Oh, and did I mention that she was 8 ½ months pregnant?

But I progressed, and overcame quite a bit to finish my first sprint distance race. Then my first international distance race. Then joining Team Z, my extended family, and finishing my first 70.3 race.

But the Ironman presents its own challenges, and much of that surrounds the training. This was how I wanted to mark turning forty. My own challenges involved being in a very busy two career household, with an almost-two-year-old, significant involvement in outside boards and organizations, and doing some cycling coaching for Team Z. But Team Z provided a plan that would prepare me well, even if I had to be more disciplined in getting those workouts in by myself so that I could be there for my family. My race weight was down to 175, after spending a good part of the season around 170. And my wife, son and our au pair Tomke provided me with tons of support, which made my journey theirs as well. And while I was constantly juggling in the months leading up, I arrived at race month filled with anticipation, curiosity and a fair amount of dread. After all, I was about to tackle the Ironman…

RACE WEEK

Traveling with an almost-two-year-old is always adventure. C2 is a great traveler, but it’s just more complicated logistically. But this trip was relatively smooth, excepting a sprint through the Houston airport with a stroller on my shoulder. We got to Cozumel, got settled in to our hotel and I head down with some teammates to pick up our bikes from the transport company.

Except, there are no bikes there. That’s odd; the guy said this was the time and place to meet him. Now, you have to understand something about me. My bikes are my babies. I prioritize them more than my car, my house, just about everything other than my immediate family. So now my baby was missing without any word from the transport company that I and fifty of my teammates had hired to get our bikes there without dealing with the airlines. I’ll write more about this experience in a follow-up post, but suffice it to say that this was a major stress-inducer the entire trip.

Head back to the hotel, and Lara and I went for a run to get the legs moving after a long travel day. We also picked up our scooter from Bambino. Now, I have no problem recommending Bambino and his company, but we did have to negotiate to get there. I don’t mind negotiating (after all, lawyers are pretty good at it), but it’s much more pleasant to have a fair price settled beforehand. We thought that we had that, but when we were boots-on-the-ground, we ended up being faced with a lot of “extras”, and were given a heads-up by Coach Ed. Suffice it to say, we settled a lot closer to my price than his in the end. Then dinner, and in bed by about 8.

The next day was Thanksgiving. The highlight of the day was supposed to be a ride around the course, but instead all I was able to do was register for the race, pick up my race schwag, and head into town for a little shopping/negotiating and lunch. We had lunch at Toro’s place, and actually got to meet Toro. Great food, but he couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t have a margarita or shot of tequila. I told him I would come back when I had finished the Ironman on Sunday. He said he would wait for me to finish. I got the strong impression that he wasn’t convinced that I would make it. We ended up naming our scooter Toro on the way home. Then we hit the special Thanksgiving buffet at the Hotel Cozumeleno, and were in bed well before 9.

Friday the plan was to hit the swim course and do a practice run. I hopped on Toro, and headed towards Chankanaab. Toro didn’t seem all that peppy though, and in town I realized that he had a flat front tire. Hmm, negotiating away the insurance now didn’t seem like the smartest idea after all. But a call to Bambino and I was off with a new scooter, with less pep than my bike but no mention of my not having the insurance. Met up with some Team Zers, swam about a mile to get a feeling for the area, and then Lara and I hit the “MANDATORY” athlete’s meeting. I really hate wasting time, so it’s painful to sit through a meeting where they simply read the athlete’s guide off a PowerPoint. No wonder few people actually show up. But we took the scooter on a run around the bike course, but this didn’t actually give me a very good sense of the winds. And we came painfully close to running out of gas due to a broken gauge. Then, we had a team meeting about the bike situation, and the coaches had been working overtime to come up with contingency plans for their athletes. The bikes were supposed to come the following day, and the coaches were really working 110% to make sure everything worked out. Another early night, as either the stress was getting to me or I was fighting a bug. But C2 didn’t want to go to bed, so we listened as he did everything he could to keep himself awake. Turns out he can speak in complete sentences, say Tomke’s full name and repeat every word we said at dinner…at least when he’s supposed to be going to sleep!

Saturday morning I woke up early, checked Facebook, and saw pictures of the bike transport being loaded off the ferry from the mainland. Success! I went back to sleep for the most restful sleep of my trip. Then woke up again, picked up the bike with Lara, I was able to do a painfully short brick and Lara got a short run in and I racked the bike. Back to the hotel, short nap, and then the team dinner and team meeting. 

At dinner, I was talking to Sebastian who asked something like were we nervous. My response: “It’s just another day of work, with more people watching.” In reality, we were really super-prepared and most of us knew we would get the distance done. We just had to perform. The transformation of these athletes was amazing. All of us had our stories, and most were more interesting than mine. But it was really inspirational to see everyone that I had met along the way looking ripped and ready. Coach Ed really got us dialed in with what we’ve been through and to keep it all in perspective, and then C2 stole the show by walking around smiling at everyone while Coach Alexis and Coach Ryan got all emotional in their speeches. C2 thought the applause was for him, and we were all happy to burn off a little nervous energy. Not much sleep the night before the Ironman…

RACE MORNING

I woke up at 12:30, and figured it was close enough to my 1:30am plan for first breakfast. I debated, and chowed down on a Chocolada (pain au chocolat) and a banana before heading back to bed. Up at 2:45 and had a sweet role and some water with salt tablets and vitamins. Finally, up at 3:45 to beat the 4am wakeup call. (Which, still came despite my calling down to the front desk to cancel it…but it didn’t wake up C2.) Dressed as much as I could, grabbed the bottles from the fridge, and fired up the iPod to get a soundtrack running through my head for the day. I was ready.

Lara and I left around 4:40am on Toro II. Only hiccup was the closed off streets in town, leading me to get pulled over by the local police. My Spanish is good enough, and yet bad enough, to get me out of that situation and we were on our way. Finished futzing with the bikes and bottles, and headed to the Team Z meeting place. Only we would find a bar open at 6am, but it was relatively secluded and no lines for the bathrooms.

The team picture was cancelled to make sure we got to the start line on time. Becky and I went over together, and we talked out our nerves about the start after a little jog. They close off so much of the pier that we had to go through transition to get there, but with no real problems. Then we watched the pros start, and went onto the dock (where we saw dolphins and sea lions from the water park). I declined to jump in (I’ll conquer my fear of heights some other time), and slipped around the side of the pier. A bunch of Zs congregated on the fence for the dolphin pens, and we waited for the start. Just another race, with a little more distance…

SWIM

Eugene and I were looking at the mass of people and decided to just hang back. The gun went off, and I probably went out too soon. I didn’t have more than a minute of clear water before I was in a scrum of people. Before the race, my biggest concern was the swim. Not only was I not the most confident swimmer, with panic attacks in several races, but in an Ironman race everyone starts at the same time and it’s not uncommon to be run over by the pack. With my history, I didn’t want to put myself in a situation where I would get in trouble. But, we had 700 meters to get to the first turn, it was against the current during this part, and everyone was amped. The first half was relatively good for me, as somehow I found mostly clear water. But as we came closer to the turn, everyone compressed and all bets were off. I was punched, kicked, had my timing chip pulled, body pulled and a fair number of sprints for position. The gals were, if anything, more territorial than the men. But we made it to the 180-degree turnaround, and it seemed to open up from there.

After the turn, you go with the currents and this is where the swim really picks up speed. When it was clear water, you could enjoy the swim and the pull from the current, while watching the Mexican Navy divers, coral and schools of fish below you. For me, it was also harder than I thought to sight my position out here and I lost some time around the rest of the course on sighting. But that problem would soon solve itself.

After about a third down the fast side of the course, I ended up behind a line of swimmers. Not a pack, a line across the course (which I’ve never seen before). Couldn’t get by them, even though I wanted to swim a touch faster. There were some vicious kickers there too that would try and kick you in the face if you came too close. So, I settled in behind them until everyone positioned themselves for the turn.

After the last 180-degree turnaround, you head back towards the other end of the piers to complete the swim. The course here is a little tricky, and we were warned not to follow the shoreline too closely as you would end up blocked near the end of the swim where land and coral jut out into that swimline. Despite the fact that it was less bumping here, and trying really hard to stay in the middle of the channel, I found myself being directed left by the course marshals. And I got stung by some jellyfish here—felt like someone punched me in the lip, then the forehead and then under my arm. Of course, that’s when the bodies are thrown together and the bumping really starts to position for the swim exit. But, out of the water and saw my time, and jogging through the showers and into Transition.

Goal Time: Between 1:10 and 1:20

Actual Time: 1:14:55 (1016 Overall; 166 Division)

Lessons: Fight for position, but keep the pace reasonable. Sighting is key.

Result: Pretty happy with this swim! Could have gone faster, but part of that is experience, part was staying easy to stay within myself in the first leg. And hey—I just swam 2.4 miles like I knew what I was doing! Woo-hoo!

T1

There are showers as you leave the pier to wash off the salt water, and I ducked in there just enough to get the salt off my head and face. I grabbed my transition bag and headed for the change tent. The men’s tent had an open door on either side so people could see in, but I really didn’t care who saw me buck naked. Stripped off the swim skin, into the Team Z tri shorts and jersey, helmet on, shoes on, sunglasses on, washed off with my extra water and out the door with my transition bag and sunscreen. Get to my bike, drop my transition bag for pickup, and realize that I have lost my sunscreen. Uh oh. Grab the bike and start to run…dump my bike, which knocks off one bottle top and half of its contents. Put everything back together, execute a pretty impressive flying leap onto the bike, and I am back in my element. Helllooo highways of Southern Cozumel!

Goal Time: Ten minutes

Actual Time: 6:30

Lessons: Don’t drop the damn sunscreen!

Result: Good, not perfect. But my goals weren’t going to be met or not here.

BIKE

Saw Lara and Jacqueline on the path out to the highway, which was awesome for my morale.

Let me say something about the course and my plan here. The first loop is like ¾ of the way around the southern half of the island, and loops 2 and 3 are obviously full loops through town. The first stretch heads south, then a short while east, then north along the eastern side of the island, then due west into town, and then south again until we hit the swim park. The northerly section along the coast is notorious for its wind, and the stretch into town has a tail wind. The section along the southern end of the island has a headwind, but isn’t all that long. We were told that the southerly roads after town were windless. This is where bike recon would have been really helpful.

So I pick a pretty fast pace, but was monitoring my heart rate and wasn’t too concerned because I knew I could let it roll in the windless conditions. I was really proud of my backing off into the wind, and felt like it was right on target in terms of effort and time. I was able to fly on the tailwind section, but wasn’t too concerned because I wouldn’t have to fight the wind for a while. Or so I thought.

As soon as I left town, I knew I was in trouble. The wind slammed me from the side and front, and instead of maintaining I started to really struggle. My speed dropped to about 15mph, and although I had been eating according to schedule the wind was making my calorie needs more urgent. So I ate, and slowed, and tried to persevere. I limped around to the windy side of the island, where I started to feel a little better. Oddly, my pace on the windy section was just about where I expected it to be, but I had lost a lot of time from my expected pace. I was also starting to feel the effects of the sun beating down on my shoulders and arms. The last thing I wanted was to get through the marathon without being able to move my upper body.

This is probably a good place to talk about how awesome Team Z was. Some people brought a cheering section, which consisted of a significant other or some family. Team Z had something like 64 racers, and over 160 people cheering. But they weren’t just cheering, they were everywhere. There would be times when you would wonder why you hadn’t seen a Z in a while, and there would be one sitting on a desolate stretch of road so you wouldn’t get lonely. Or there would be a caravan of scooters traveling on closed roads (away from the athletes) to make sure you knew you were supported. We had three formal spots on the bike and the run, and probably close to eight informal spots on the bike. I was actually asked three times whether we were a cult. And the best part was cheering for all the other athletes from the DC area….my teammates, friends and family who came out to cheer for us were absolutely amazing, and there is no other group of triathletes like them in the world. But special thanks goes out to everyone who was cheering on the bike course with Alexis right before the tailwind section. Because I pulled in like an Indy car driver, and within seconds they had provided me with sunscreen and a sendoff that would make a Tour de France rider jealous.

After that, I backed off the last lap to adjust for the wind I would find around the rest of the island. My back was hurting (Dr Kathy says it’s a soaz muscle issue, but I think it’s because I didn’t have my tri bike for two weeks before the race), my time was disappointing, and I was not in the place I envisioned myself for so long. But I stayed (relatively) mentally strong, and knew that this was a tough way to learn a lesson on the bike, but still an aberration.

Goal Time: Between 4:45 and 5:15

Actual Time: 5:43:32 (556 Overall; 92 Division)

Lessons: Think my preparation was decent here, and recon could have been better. More speed, more fitness, and I can hit those time goals on an IM course. Probably need to dial in nutrition better and make that easier, with a bottle of Red Bull to sip through the ride.

Result: Extremely disappointed, but still a respectable time. My standards are very high here, but I just didn’t meet them. Work to be done, but on the right track.

T2

Dismount and hand off my bike, grab my T2 bag, and this tent is the opposite of the first transition: there is a guy holding then tent door so people can’t see us changing, but he practically refuses to let me in. Volunteers are so helpful that I spend half my time refusing water. Do another costume change, grab a banana and water, two race belts, and I’m off. I wonder if that blister on my foot will give me problems on the run…

Goal Time: Seven minutes

Actual Time: 4:22

Lessons: Plan the bag better.

Result: Hmm, not bad but could be faster. Take :30 seconds off each transition, and I’m sitting pretty.

RUN

When you leave T2, no matter what common-sense says, you start to run. Not moving is time lost, and walking just doesn’t cut it. Until your brain starts processing the fact that you’ve been biking 112 113 miles, eating GU and you need to now tackle a marathon with legs that aren’t used to this. So no matter how many well-meaning Cozumelenos encourage you to “Vamos!” or “Si se peude!”, you stop running and walk like you’re mortal. At least, I did; everybody who I was biking with just took off and dusted me. But, at least I enjoyed my banana. Sort of.

I saw Toro, and he seemed surprised to see me. But he said he would wait for me to finish and have that tequila shot. Great—now I have homework after my day in the sun.

The run course was three loops, 4.7 up, turnaround just past our hotel, and 4.7 back into town. I can still see every inch of that road in my head. The nice thing was that there was an aid station every kilometer, instead of every mile as you might find in the US. With my plan to walk through each aid station, that meant a little more respite for my weary legs.

The first lap was decent. After about two miles I got my running legs working again full-time and was running most of the time between aid stations. Coke and water through the aid stations, plus a little gel. I tried pretzels or bananas, but it just wasn’t happening. My blisters were noticeable halfway through the first lap, one where each toe joined the foot, but the pain was manageable. Then the rain started.

But before the rain, I ran by our hotel twice. I got to see Lara, Tomke and C2 as I ran by, plus all the Zs congregated there. And after the turn, I got the greatest gift…the look on C2’s when I ran up and hugged him was something only a father could understand. I hugged Tomke too, because I didn’t have a chance to do that before I left. And I gave Lara a big kiss and was on my way.

The clouds had been welcome, as it took the edge off the heat while the sun was still up. The rain, however, would saturate the course and create all kinds of issues. The first was that it would inflame the blisters on my feet as my shoes became waterlogged. This caused the blisters to become worse with each step. At first I hoped they popped. But I’m glad they didn’t.

The rain kept coming down, as we pushed on through the race. I kept seeing teammates on the out and back course, and tried to greet each one with a “Let’s Go Z!” I was mostly holding my own. The Zs were out on the run course as well, holding down a well-stocked bar in town, a mini-cheer station about a mile from our hotel, at our hotel and a roving caravan that would cheer for each one of us.

The rain was creating not only puddles; it was backing up the sewage system on the island. So now we were running through giant lakes of who knows what. At one point, the road was flooded from curb-to-curb, and you had to run through at least a foot of water. The timing chip had cut my ankle, and you could feel the wound stinging each time my left leg went into the water. The stench was quite bad in places too. Had my blisters popped, I would have quite a job to keep them from getting infected. Keep pushing.

Still, about halfway I looked to be on a 4:30 pace. My pace would slow considerably on the last lap, as the blisters, puddles, darkness and tiredness took their toll. I knew at this point that I would be an Ironman; it would only take some perseverance to the finish.

The last lap I ended up walking more than I would have liked, but the blisters on my feet were really getting to me mentally. I should have gone faster, but my brain just wouldn’t. The Team Z glow necklaces really helped keep everyone’s spirits up though. I was able to run the last mile or so, making sure to keep space ahead and behind me. If I crossed the line with others, they wouldn’t call out my name specifically. But I had finished my marathon, and with it my first Ironman!

Goal Time: 4:00-4:30

Actual Time: 4:59:13

Lessons: Need to better prepare my feet to ward off blisters.

Result: I was actually pretty pleased with this run, given everything. Need to address blister issues, but I am already researching that. And probably need some better BRIC transition work, but I am thinking about how to build that into my schedule. Other than that, just get faster!

Overall Goal Time: 10:48

Overall Actual Time: 12:08:32 (683 Overall; 107 Division)

Lessons: See above.

Result: I was disappointed with the time, but for my first 140.6 (actually, 226 since Mexico goes by kilometers not miles) race I was pleased that I finished, finished strong mentally and see some areas where I can gain back the time I lost on this first attempt. To put it in perspective, something like 2350 people started the race, about 1400 of them were men, and 277 finished in my age category while 80 dropped out of the race in my age category alone.

FINISH AND POST-RACE

So I pass the turnaround and turn into the chute, and hear Lara screaming over a couple thousand people cheering. She got a video of me running by, and there was another competitor right on my heels. Always push—there were seconds separating the person in front of me and the person behind me.

I raised my hand and face to heaven, remembering that we lost a baby this year while trying to have another child, crossed the line and was overcome with emotion. With all I had been through to get to this point, with all the sacrifices that we had been through as a family and team, with all the change in our lives as we learned to love sport again, became healthier and happier and grew together as a family, there was a lot driving me that no one saw.

Grabbed the medal, waited in line for the picture, went to see the American docs in medical about what to do about my ankle (“soap and water”, and I didn’t argue because I had visions of a Mexican tetanus shot). Found Lara, who took my bike back to the bike transport, which apparently decided to not park where they said they would, but in the middle of a dark alley. Great. Meanwhile, I was Ironman-shuffling up to Toro’s where I had a shot of the smoothest tequila I had ever tasted. Then, Toro drove us to the taxi stand, and we made our way back to the hotel and the buffet there. I was starving!

In the time since, I don’t know whether the enormity of my accomplishment has sunk in. What has blown me away are the Team Z Ironman statistics from this year. We had 16 people race IM Arizona (not even our team race), and of those I think 14 finished. 66 people raced IM COZ, and 62 finished. While those are impressive numbers in any athletic team, Team Z is more about changing lives than fine-tuning already fit athletes. That means that we search out the folks—like me—that got too heavy, or for some other reason needed to prove something to themselves. Out of the process, we got some great athletes, but also some amazing friendships and a family-like atmosphere. If you’re thinking about changing your life, you should really check out www.triteamz.com.

Since the race, most of my teammates have come down with what we’re calling the Mexican Death Plague, and others have been suffering from the Post-Ironman Blues. I’ve been pretty lucky, as we went straight back to work and now have the house decorated for Christmas. My blisters are almost gone ten days later, and my eye infection is starting to clear. And I’m taking December mostly off and then doing it all over again for Ironman Lake Placid 2012.

So, before that gets going again, I have a few people to thank. First, my wife Lara, without whom I could not have done this. Actually, I could have, but no one one would be watching C2, and that would have been bad. C2, sorry I missed so much—but there’s a purpose behind it. Tomke, you were an amazing help to us when we had crazy schedules (the entire time you’ve been here), and you’re a daughter to Lara and I. Thank you. To my whole family, your support was invaluable. To Coach Ed, Coach Alexis and Coach Ryan: I cannot believe how well you prepared us, watched over us, pushed us and bled for us. What you’ve created here is stupefying, and you don’t get nearly enough credit for the lives you’ve saved and changed. Thank you, especially for putting up with all my carp. To my IM-bound teammates: you will never know how much your presence was an inspiration in the entire time leading up to the race. I wish I had been able to train more with you, but believe me I was suffering with you in body and spirit. Come race day, you all were amazing sources of motivation. To the Ironman Sherpa and Cheer Squad: you literally choked me up several times while I was trying to race. You gave us wings, and made an enormous difference. When the entire race is talking about our cheering section, you’ve made the biggest impact of all of us. And I’m sure I’m missing people in this list, but thanks to everyone who helped me conquer this goal.

See you all in Lake Placid, 2012!